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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650801">CAFÉ OUBLIÉ</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alecisnoonesbitch/pseuds/alecisnoonesbitch'>alecisnoonesbitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Parenting, But not exactly, Gen, M/M, Past Character Death, Pining, United Nations, canonverse, neglect sort of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:08:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alecisnoonesbitch/pseuds/alecisnoonesbitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if countries lived and breathed? Fought in wars and represented their cultures while appearing human? What if your country's representative was dead and forgotten?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Other Relationship Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What if?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: I own nothing, this idea has been in my head for a while and I decided to write it down.</p><p>Translation: CAFÉ OUBLIÉ is french for Forgotten Cafe</p><p>Bonne Lecture!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We live in a world divided by borders and these borders separate what we call Nations. (Well I live here, I'm not trying to assume your planet)</p><p>na·tion</p><p>noun</p><p>plural noun: nations</p><p>1. a large body of people united by common descent, history, culture, or language, inhabiting a particular country or territory.</p><p>Similar: country, land, kingdom</p><p>Nations are just land. They house living things: humans, plants, animals. Nations do not live themselves. That would be absurd, nonsensical, mere childish whimsy. But what if it was true? What if there was a person who looked just like every other human in the prime of their life, but had looked like that for centuries? Who had made decisions, fought in wars, raised children (see: colonies), and represented cultures? What if your country was the only one without a representative? What if your representative had died?</p><p>They are immortal! You say. They can not die, and even if they did, they would probably come back to life!</p><p>But what if they died before they were a fully independent country? What if they had been on the cusp of freedom only to die in a war that was not theirs, dreams blown away in the wind with the hopes of the citizens who died alongside them. Those hopes and dreams would continue on the wind, make it back to the other soldiers, and empower them to victory. But the representative would stay dead.</p><p>Would other nations mourn? Be grateful? Scared? Would they forget that the country representative had ever existed?</p><p>Whatever, it doesn't matter since there is no such thing as an immortal nation representative, eh? Or is there?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I own nothing and all that jazz. I have one guess for who the dead nation is and I will not say if it's correct or not, so, keep guessing, eh? </p><p> Leughadh math!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>10:36:52 27 June 2018, London, England, Europe, Earth, Milky Way(not to be confused with Mikey Way)</p><p>“And that is why Mr. Jones represents both of the aforementioned countries.” Ellen Claremont, President of the United States of America, finished, the British prime minister nodding.</p><p>“Are you sure that Comrade Fredka can handle that much responsibility?” the words radiated evil, and the countries drew back in fear as Liechtenstein spoke. (LOL jk)”I would be happy to represent the country that is called-” </p><p>“SHUT UP COMMIE! I ALREADY REPRESENT THEM AND YOU CAN'T TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME!!! I LOVE THEM!” Alfred yells, sounding almost distraught.<br/>Francis speaks bluntly, “He is dead. There is no one to love. Just land and citizens who didn’t even care or notice when their personification died. He is gone and the land has no worth. Give it up America. Maybe we can pretend it doesn’t exist since we had no problem doing it before.”</p><p>“Oi shut up, Francis. That is his land, it is him. Even if he isn’t here physically, he is in each of those citizens, even if he has been dead for a century. You know that! You saw those citizens fight with his spirit. His beauty is in the gorgeous landscapes, and his love in the generosity of the country. So you need to shut your mouth and stop disrespecting him, for he is still here!” Everyone gaped, Scotland generally didn’t go on rants or express emotions so openly. And he sure didn’t berate his friends.</p><p>A single tear rolled down Francis’ cheek, turning into full-on sobs as he runs out of the room. No one follows him.</p><p>“I represent them and no one, I mean no one, is going to even mention taking them away unless they feel like getting nuked,” America stated, eyes hard and face unusually serious. His president stared at him, she hadn’t known that he was still this affected.</p><p>“You can’t just nuke us stupid american!” Cuba spat, “you could end up levelling the world!”</p><p>“There is no world without him,” Alfred whispered, and he too left the room.</p><p>President Claremont cleared her throat, “We called this meeting to discuss whether or not America would continue to represent both countries and I believe that we have come to an agreement. Alfred shall continue?” The remaining countries nodded, some more reluctantly than others. Even Prussia nodded, despite the fact that his vote didn’t really count (desole mon cheri prusse).</p><p>Everyone filed out of what was one of the shortest meetings they had had.</p><p>One blonde nation stayed behind. Alone, despite Scotland wanting to stay with them. The nation sobbed into their hands, “I am so sorry, so sorry, I failed, I failed you…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Sorry for the insanely short chapter (Aren’t all of the chapters i write short though). Sorry for not updating sooner. Sorry if some of the countries seem ooc. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT PRESIDENT CLAREMONT IS FROM? Oh, and Happy Thanksgivng to my fellow canadians and to everyone i guess, even if you don't celebrate thanksgiving or know what it is.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Chapter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>" England hade gone mad. everyone knew it."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: *Disclaimer Thing Yadayadayada* Bienvenue et Jouir de! Welcome and Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alfred Fucking Jones had been representing two countries for 113 years now. His brother had been dead for 113 long lonely years and his people still didn’t care. They still didn’t notice. Alfred had stopped imagining that every pale blonde he passed might be his reincarnated brother. He had even slept with someone who could have been his brother’s twin. If his brother had lived to look physically nineteen, that is. Alfred had moved on. Even Francis had stopped wasting away. He had returned to lecherous flirty self, confining his anguish to his mind, not to be shown outwardly. Some countries hadn’t cared or even noticed the absence, continuing as if they hadn’t been saved through the sacrifice of their comrade.</p><p>One nation had not moved on, however. One obsessed and pored over books and ancient scrolls of dark magic and necromancy during the day, and suicide methods and regrets in the night. One dwelled, dwelled, as his brothers, who hadn’t all recovered fully either, ran the Union. </p><p>Arthur Kirkland had gone mad. All the countries knew it. Well, he acted almost normal if you got him drunk enough, but no one, not even a nation could stay drunk all the time. So the world watched as he sank deeper into guilt-driven obsession. Eventually, he stopped sleeping. He ate when brought food and he drank if given tea, but he wouldn’t drink the tea if it didn’t have maple syrup. What he once had scoffed at and been disgusted by had become a crutch to him, a comfort.</p><p>On nights he spent in the woods, all alone, knowing that he would never succeed in his endeavour, he would sit and he would weep, and then he would wipe his eyes and push on. These nights most oft happened during the monthly world meetings. He would sit in the meeting room and pretend that he didn’t feel personally responsible for the empty seat that everyone else ignored. He would not, however, hide his resentment for France and America for having seemingly moved on and accepted it.</p><p>If it was up to England, Matthew wouldn’t be dead for much longer.</p><p>If it was up to Francis, England wouldn’t completely go insane. </p><p>Francis would not lose another family member. (Yes England was family.) France had made a plan. He was going to get England to spend some time outside of that dreadful lair of his. He had approached some human contacts of his to find a great, friendly Cafe to take his Angleterre to. He had thought that a cafe would be a good first step for integrating Arthur into society, and a french cafe is the best cafe, non? The cafe he had been supplied with was called Le Café oublié. The Forgotten Cafe, Francis had thought of the name as a sign. He WOULD take England there, and England WOULD get better. Eventually. Maybe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Yep, Canada is the dead one. How “original” of me, I know. Frick off, Canada is my boi. There is no such thing as overdoing something if it involves him (Except suicide fics, he has a LOT of those). KK bye.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: My name for Scotland is Alasdair since it is a Scottish Gaelic name and the Scottish version of Alistair.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>BBBBBRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG! </em>
  <em>BBBBBRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGG! SLAM!</em>
</p><p>"Gah! Curse that blasted wretch! I am NOT a hermit! I have Purpose, I have dedication, I have A GOAL! Ah well, we'll see how he likes insulting me when I bring his precious <em>bebe</em> back. HMM?! he'll be worshipping my bloody trainers!" Arthur grumbled, walking away from the phone and back to his desk. His desk was dark, dusty, and covered in towers of books on dark magic. Books belonging to Arthur, Norway, Romania, Putin, the Winchesters, Baba Yaga and anyone else even remotely magical or dark (mainly dark, I mean, it's <em>necromancy</em> we're talking about.)</p><p>The room the aforementioned desk occupied was just as dark and book-filled, if not more. Arthur picked his way through the books and scrolls on skinny legs, looking much like Baba Yaga himself, if Baba Yaga was an English Man with larg-ahem, <em>distinguished, </em>eyebrows, and not an old Slavic woman.</p><p>"Art?" Alasdair nudged open the huge oak door, the light from the hallway piercing through the room until it reached the Englishman.</p><p>"<em>Hisssssss!</em> Turn off that dastardly light! You'll damage the scrolls!" Arthur scowled, shielding his eyes from the dastardly light, "What do you want, you pillock?"</p><p>"I heard ye hang up on <em>An Fhraing,</em>" Alasdair replied, "ye can't just ignore him f'rever, ye know."</p><p>Arthur's face turned red, the colour showing even more on his paler-than-it-has-ever-been skin.</p><p>"What's wrong, wee brother? Ye have a face like a skelped erse!" Scotland inquired cheekily, comparing the colour of his brother's face to that of a clouted backside.</p><p>"You were lisTENING AT MY DOOR? Do you have no sense of decency, you fucking yahoo?!" Arthur shrieked, his face now resembling a red panda, as his bags remained pale.</p><p>"I was coming to check on ye, which I wouldn't have to do so often if ye took care of yerself," Alasdair countered, worry peeking through.</p><p>"I am taking care of Matthew!"</p><p>Alasdair cringed in answer to Arthur's statement, "Mat- The wee lad has gone on, ye would only be disrespecting 'im if ye brought 'im back."</p><p>"I WILL BRING HIM BACK AND I WILL LOVE HIM AND REMEMBER HIM LIKE HE DESERVES," Arthur stopped to catch his breath, his body a little weak for extended yelling, "YOU CAN NOT STOP ME! I AM GREAT FUCKING BRITAIN AND I WILL BLOODY WELL DO WHAT I WANT!"</p><p>"Yes, ye ARE a PART of Great Britain, and yet, ye don't seem to care about governing it. Ye haven't left this room!"</p><p>"MATTHEW IS MY PRIORITY! BUGGER OFF!" Arthur had, at this point, buried his face back in the next book, this one red leather with black lettering.</p><p>"Tell ye what," Alasdair sighed, "every time ye go to that Cafe with Francis, I'll help ye look for something to bring back, erm, The Lad."</p><p>"How do you know about the Caf-"</p><p>"I already told ye, I was outside the door, now have we got a deal?"</p><p>"Hmmm, fine."</p><hr/><p>"This is <em>Le café oublié</em>!"</p><p>"Looks revolting... Proceed."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Sorry, I know it has been months. Christmas was hectic, despite being one of the quietest ones I have ever had.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur took a deep breath and prepared himself for something he hadn't done in years. Socializing *<em>SHUDDER</em>*. He would never admit it, but he was glad that, for the first outing, it would just be him and the frog. France could be gentle and kind, and his presence at Arthur's side was familiar and dare he say, comfortable. He had sort of missed having friends. He could just ease himself into this and Francis wouldn't push him. Maybe this would be alright.</p><p>Alas, right as Francis was about to open the door for Arthur a large group of familiar faces came up behind them. America, the Axis (including Prussia), Spamano and the Nordics stood behind them, Wales and Scotland trailing behind snickering at the face Arthur was making as he took them all in.</p><p>Arthur was going to kill everyone. First, he was going to strangle Francis with his own hair and choke Alfred with the ribbon in the aforementioned hair. The Nordics would be a bit more of a challenge, but then again, maybe Norway would whisk the other Nordics away with his magic (magic that was definitely much weaker than Arthurs own. Definitely.) Wait, his magic. Even Norway's weak vestige of magic could aid Arthur at least a little bit in his necromancing. Perhaps he wouldn't kill everyone. Not yet at least. But if he needed a sacrifice to bring Matthew back he knew where to find at least 6. He pasted on a polite smile. He would be pleasant, for now.</p><p>" 'Sup dudes!" Alfred greeted, far too loudly for how closely everyone was standing, "I heard that Francy-pants had gotten Artie to leave his hobbit hole and I spread the word!"</p><p>"I can sort of understand you and Spain coming, but why are the rest here?" Francis inquired, gesturing to the Nordics and the former Axis powers.</p><p>"I came to make sure that England was rehabilitating for sure. I cannot stand having the other Kirklands fighting each other during meetings anymore. No offence Scotland und Wales," Germany supplied, "Italia und Japan are accompanying me und Prussia- well I can't explain his presence."</p><p>"I was bored," Prussia said, and he did indeed look bored, and a little tired.</p><p>"There is no way I would let my Fratello be in the same room as you perverts without me to protect him," Romano grumbled, but the sentence sounded too practiced to be genuine.</p><p>They all looked to the Nordics. Sealand jumped out from the middle of the group.</p><p>"I wanted to see the Jerk-Bastard; make sure he was still alive," Sealand shouted petulantly, "It will be hard to rub my country status in his face if he's dead."</p><p>"L'ng'g'," Sweden warned.</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>Finland laughed lightly, "He said language, as in 'Watch your language, Peter."</p><p>"Okay, mum."</p><p>"I'm not your mum!'</p><p>"Tr', y'r m' w'f'."</p><p>Arthur was internally panicking. He couldn't quite remember how to do this. What should he laugh at, or comment on? What did he use to do? AHA! Sarcasm! ... except ... where would he use sarcasm? He looked around at the others and pulled out his phone discreetly, typing into google and mumbling under his breath. "...sarcastic, s-a-r-c-a-s-t-i-c, remarks to make to seem normal. And search."</p><p>"Artie?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side like a golden retriever, "Did'ya hear what I said?"</p><p>In a moment of outright social terror, Arthur chose the first sentence that came up on his phone and said it.</p><p>"I'm sorry, while you were talking I was trying to figure out where the hell you got the idea that I cared." <em>Huh, that does sound like me, perfect.</em></p><p><em>"</em>I-Uh, right," Alfred said, "I was wondering how your death potion was going."</p><p>"I said I didn't care. Not that you should repeat yourself," Arthur deadpanned, internally patting himself on the back, "and it isn't 'death magic', it's Necromancy, Twat! Secondly, you can't necromance using potions. They are far too tangible to use with spirits, everyone knows that. Essence scavenging spells are obviously the way to go. and-" Arthur stopped panicking as he got back into the motions of scolding and ranting at Alfred and everyone else saw that he looked saner than they'd seen him in a while.</p><p>"It seems he may actually come back to normal," Ludwig spoke to Kiku as they finally entered the cafe, Arthur still lecturing. They all sat down at a huge table that they made after compiling almost half of the cafe's tables together. Everyone was more relaxed now that Arthur was looking less feral.</p><p>One of the Cafe's waiters approached their table, not batting an eye at how much they had rearranged. "Large group, eh?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Guesses for which country is dead?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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